


Enter Stage Right

by Sinna



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency Beginner Bang, I snuck in as many cameos as I could, M/M, Panto and Farson are both trans and you can't stop me, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 09:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinna/pseuds/Sinna
Summary: Aspiring actor Silas Dengdamor finally got his big break - he's been cast as Romeo at the prestigious Wendimoor Shakespeare Company. There’s just one teensy tiny problem: He's hopeless at stage combat.Enter Panto Trost - Wendimoor Company Member, Fight Captain, and actor playing Paris.If these two can manage to string together two sentences around each other, they just might manage to turn Silas into a fighting machine by opening night.





	Enter Stage Right

Of all the places in the United States, Montana seemed like the least suited to classical theatre. And yet, the Wendimoor Shakespeare Theatre was widely considered one of the finest Shakespeare companies in the world, regularly attracting tourists of the nerdiest sort to the otherwise sleepy town of Bergsberg. Actors from the theater regularly went on to perform at the Royal Shakespeare Company, take leading roles on Broadway, and star in popular films.

Standing in front of the whimsical theater, widely considered the finest achievement of renowned architect Francis Cardenas, Silas Dengdamor once again had to pinch himself. How was this real? He was two years out of college and had spent most of those two years living in a studio apartment while working multiple minimum-or-below-minimum-wage jobs in hopes that each new audition would be the one to grant him his big break. In the end, he’d finally given up on “doing things on his own” and taken up his mother’s offer to call a family friend who worked at “Some theatre place out in Montana. Very respectable, I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

He hadn’t spoken to Wygar Oak in almost ten years, but he wouldn’t have known it from how the man hugged him when they met again. Wygar came to one of the devised pieces Silas was performing in a church basement, declared he had plenty of talent, and next thing he knew he was sending off an audition tape. At best, he’d expected a bit part he could use to pad out his resume. Instead, three callbacks later, here he was for the first rehearsal of _Romeo and Juliet_ , and he was playing a title role.

He read the quote emblazoned above the door, – _We are such stuff as dreams are made on_ – took a deep breath, and opened the door.

The woman in the box office smiled at him. “Are you here for rehearsal?”

He nodded, trying to calm his restless nerves

“Wonderful!” Her eyes twinkled. No one should be that alert at 9:30 am. “If you could sign in here, I’ll give you a keycard and you can head right up to the rehearsal room. Second floor, first door on the left.”

Silas followed her instructions in something of a daze. Luckily, it seemed he wasn’t the first one here. He could hear voices from all the way down the hall. Opening the door, he saw two people he assumed were actors, and a group of people passing around various laptops and papers – Wygar among them – seated behind a table. Wygar looked up and offered a grin, and Silas awkwardly waved back. He then turned his attention to his fellow actors.

The girl had materialized, almost out of nowhere, beside him.

“Hi! You’re Silas, right?”

“That’s right. And you are?”

“Mona Wilder. I’m your Juliet!” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Lovely to meet you in person finally. I saw your audition tape. You’re fantastic!”

“Thank you.”

She indicated the other actor in the room. “That’s Panto Trost. He’s the fight captain and he plays Paris.” She snickered. “You get to kill him.”

Silas didn’t respond because he was far too busy staring at the man she’d indicated. Panto Trost was…

Breathtaking.

“It’s the pink hair, isn’t it?” Panto joked, noticing him staring. “I’m allowed to keep it whatever color I want for rehearsals as long as I dye it before tech week.”

“Maybe I should dye my hair then,” Silas attempted to joke back. “I’ve always wondered about green hair.”

“Litzibitz would kill you,” Mona warned him in a singsong voice. “The only reason Panto gets away with it is because she’s his sister and she dyes his hair herself.”

“Litzibitz is the costume designer?” Silas guessed.

“That’s right,” Panto confirmed. “Resident costume designer for three years now. She’s brilliant, don’t worry. You’re in good hands. And I don’t just say that because she’s my sister.”

“I’ve seen pictures from past shows here,” Silas said. “The costumes looked amazing.”

Panto grinned. “I’ll tell her you said so.”

At that lull in the conversation, Silas escaped to his phone and managed to avoid looking at Panto until rehearsal started.

“Okay everyone! It’s ten o’clock, so let’s get started.” A loud voice rang out across the room, and Silas instantly turned his attention to the speaker.

“My name is Farah Black, and I’m your stage manager. You’ll be getting a lot of emails from me over the next few weeks. Read them, and respond when necessary, and I’m sure we’ll get along fine. I know most of you have worked here before, but for those of you who haven’t this is our Production Manager, Ken Addams, Technical director Estevez, Fight choreographer Wygar Oak, and my assistant stage manager, Todd Brotzman. And now I’ll turn things over to the Director. Zimmerfield?”

Zimmerfield began outlining the production’s concept – something about blurring the lines between fantasy and reality. Silas should really have been paying attention, but honestly Panto was just too distracting. He was stretched out on the floor, eyes always forward even as he twisted his way through some sort of elaborate warmup routine. No one should be that flexible. Worse still, Mona seemed to have caught on to his crush and was making delighted and overly expressive faces in his direction.

\--

**Silas Dengdamor** _(Romeo)_

This is Silas’ first show with Wendimoor Shakespeare. He’s previously appeared in church basements and community centers across northern Virginia and Washington DC. He holds a degree in Theatre from Ohio State University. Thanks to my family and especially Farson and Wygar for the support!

\--

After rehearsal, Wygar dragged him to a nearby café for lunch.

“So what’s up?” he asked.

Silas’ fork entirely missed the olive it was aiming for and clanged loudly against his plate.

“Nothing’s up.”

“You’re way off your game,” Wygar insisted. “It’s not making a great impression. I told Zimms you’re just nervous for your first rehearsal at such a prestigious theater, but you need to get your act together. You can’t get this kind of nerves for a rehearsal. You’ll never make it through a show like that.”

“It’s not nerves,” Silas insisted, pushing his food around on his plate. “I’m fine.”

“Does it have to do with all the faces Mona was making?”

Silas winced. “You noticed that?”

“Hard not to,” Wygar laughed and shoved another chip in his mouth. “Mona always acts like she’s on a stage. Don’t let her get to you. She’s nice enough.”

“She seems nice,” Silas agreed.

“So what’s bothering you?” Wygar asked.

“I don’t suppose Mom mentioned to you that I’m gay?”

“Not in so many words,” Wygar confirmed.

Of course not. He knew he could have been much worse. He could have been kicked out. But his mother continuing to pretend that part of his identity didn’t exist didn’t feel great either.

“Is that your problem? I promise no one’s going to give you a hard time for it. Hell, half the company is some variation on queer.”

“No, my problem is…” Silas folded his arms on the table and rested his head on them. “…I have a crush.”

In retrospect, that had probably been the funniest way to announce that. Still, Silas felt vaguely insulted by Wygar’s laughter.

“Sorry, you actors are just so dramatic about everything.”

Okay, that was fair. Still…

“This is a serious problem! I can barely think when he’s around!”

“Who is he?”

“…Panto…” Silas mumbled.

“Well, you’re in luck. He’s gay and single as far as I’m aware.”

“Don’t tell me that,” Silas moaned.

“Your mom might kill you though.”

“No, she just pointedly ignores all my boyfriends.”

“No, I mean, she and Panto’s dad have been in a feud for years.”

“Wait, he’s one of _those_ Trosts?”

Silas groaned. Sometime back in the 80’s, his mother’s property in LA had bordered Jeppum Trost’s estate. Silas had never figured out exactly what started the feud, but she’d never forgiven the man.

“I need to get over this,” he decided. “And fast.”

\--

**Panto Trost** (Paris, Fight Captain)*

Previous credits with Wendimoor Shakespeare include: Henry IV parts 1 & 2 (Prince Hal), Cymbeline (Guiderius), Twelfth Night (Sebastian), The Winter’s Tale (Florizel), Hamlet (Laertes), and The Tempest (Ferdinand). Regional credits: Hairspray (Link Larkin), Mourning Becomes Electra (Orin), Our Town (George), The Little Foxes (Leo). Trained at Montana Theatre Conservatory. Member of SAFD and AEA. Litzibitz is the best costume designer ever.

* Company Member

\--

There was something very exciting about holding a real sword – even a dulled down one.

But the novelty was starting to wear off, and frustration was setting in.

“Are you okay, Silas?” Panto asked, holding out his hand to help Silas up.

Silas reluctantly accepted his help.

“I’m fine.”

His butt was going to be sore for a few days, but he could handle that. His wounded pride, not so much.

“Do we need to go over this again?” Wygar asked, frowning.

“Yes, please.”

“All right, let’s start at the beginning. Paris, cut to 5.”

Silas hesitated. Which was five?

“Silas, look at me,” Panto murmured.

Silas forced himself to focus. Panto was raising his sword above his head. That meant five was a headshot. He quickly raised his sword to block the cut.

“25% show speed, Silas,” Wygar reminded him.

Right. He tried to think. What move was next?

“Cut to 2,” Wygar called out.

That was one of the shoulders, right? Which one…? He hesitantly cut to his right. Panto moved to block his other shoulder. He quickly changed course. Wygar probably noticed, but he didn’t say anything.

And so it went.

\--

**Mona Wilder** (Juliet)*

Previous Wendimoor Credits include: Dr Faustus (Mephistopheles/Helen), As You Like It (Rosalind), King Lear (Fool), Cymbeline (Imogen), The Tempest (Miranda), and Rehearsals (A Gay Delight). Regional credits include: The Vagina Monologues, Spongebob Squarepants (Workshop, Ensemble), Fun Home (Middle Alison) Touring: Something Rotten (Ensemble, u/s Bea). Snail kisses to my biggest fan!

\--

Litzibitz Trost had pink hair in a shade that perfectly matched her brother’s. That was the first thing Silas noticed about her. The second was that she had straight pins in her collar. He was immediately intimidated.

She smiled and ushered him into the costume shop. Three other women were busy at work and just as busy chatting. They quieted down when they noticed Silas. One of them – a tall woman bedazzling a pair of boots – had pastel dreadlocks in that same shade of pink that Silas had mentally dubbed “Trost pink”.

“Silas, right?”

“That’s right.”

There was a moment where everyone in the shop stopped what they were doing and exchanged knowing glances.

“Yes,” he sighed. “I’m the guy who can’t manage to figure out basic stage combat.”

Litzibitz laughed. It wasn’t a cruel laugh.

“You’ll get it. I’m not worried.”

She reached for a tape measure and positioned him in the least crowded area of the shop.

“Stand up straight and don’t move unless I tell you to,” she warned.

One of the other women – with long dark hair pulled into a braid – moved to sit in the nearest chair, flipping open a binder. As Litzibitz called out measurements, she noted them down.

“Hey Litzi!”

Of course. Of course Panto had to walk in. And while Litzibitz had her hands on his thigh.

Neither of the Trost siblings seemed to notice his discomfort.

“Your shirt’s on the table,” Litzibitz called cheerfully over her shoulder. “Can you try it on real quick?”

And then Silas couldn’t tear his eyes away as Panto pulled off his t-shirt.

Damn.

No one should have abs that good outside a heavily photoshopped magazine cover.

Litzibitz swatted at his hip.

“You’re staring,” she warned in a low voice.

Not low enough, apparently.

Panto turned his attention to them.

“Top surgery,” he explained, gesturing to the scars Silas hadn’t even noticed.

“What was it like?” Silas blurted out. “Shit! Sorry. That was rude. I meant to say… can I ask you about the recovery process?”

Panto and Litzibitz were both looking at him quizzically. 

“My brother’s trans,” he explained. “He’s graduating next year and we’re both gonna take a few weeks off in the summer so he can get top surgery and I can help him recover.”

Panto smiled, and it lit up his face in a way Silas had never seen from him before.

“Litzi’s probably the one to ask about that,” he admitted. “I was high on painkillers for like a week.”

“Not in the middle of a fitting,” Litzibitz said gently. “We can go out for drinks sometime and talk about it. I’ve got a bunch of papers I can copy for you.” She turned to Panto. “And you. Stop showing off your chest and get that shirt on.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

\--

**Todd Brotzman** (Assistant Stage Manager)

First show with Wendimoor Shakespeare! Previous credits include a bunch of underground alt-rock concerts in Seattle. Yes, _that_ Todd Brotzman.

\--

As soon as Silas was gone, Panto collapsed in a puddle on the floor.

“Litziiiiii,” he moaned.

She stepped over him.

“Not in my costume shop.”

Bigby, Zarf, and Nibso were giggling and whispering among themselves.

He ignored them all. “He’s perfect.”

“Get that shirt off the floor.”

With a sigh he heaved himself to his feet and pulled the shirt off. As soon as he had put his t-shirt back on, he resumed his position on the floor.

“Do you think he’d say yes if I asked him to marry me?”

“You’ve known him for a week,” Litzibitz pointed out.

Panto ignored her.

“He’s so beautiful,” he sighed.

“He’s not bad, for a guy,” Bigby chimed in.

There was a pointed silence from Litzibitz.

“Dad will kill you,” she finally said.

Panto lifted his head to look at her. “Since when have either of us ever cared about that?”

“I’m just… you do this every time, Panto. I don’t want you to get hurt again. Maybe take it slow this time? I admit, he’s cute, and he seems nice, but we barely know him.”

“I know, but… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him ever since I met him. I have a good feeling about this.”

Litzibitz sighed.

“At least start with drinks.”

A blood-splattered woman leaned in the door.

“Has anyone seen Ken?”

Litzibitz shrieked. “Don’t you dare come in here covered in whatever that is!”

When Bart didn’t make a move to step further into the room, Litzibitz relented.

“I think he’s in his office.”

Bart nodded. “Why’s Panto on the floor?”

Panto jumped to his feet.

“I’m so glad you asked, Bartine.”

\--

**Tina Tevetino** (Lights)

Studied at Montana University. This is her third show with Wendimoor Shakespeare. tinatev.420@gmail.com Hey Hobbs you’re my best friend!

\--

The major downside of a small town like Bergsberg was that there were only three bars.

Silas was just trying to forget about the whole debacle when who should walk in but the last person he wanted to see. Panto Trost. Even worse, Panto had the audacity to smile when he saw Silas and immediately walked over to sit next to him.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked.

“Not really,” Silas told him.

Panto laughed. Damn him. He had a really nice laugh.

“Is that your way of telling me to go away?” he asked.

“No!” it definitely had been, but he somehow couldn’t bear the thought of Panto leaving. “Go ahead.”

Panto sat down and ordered an exceptionally brightly colored drink with a name Silas had never heard before.

“You haven’t done much stage combat, have you?” Panto observed.

“None at all,” Silas admitted. “I’ve done plenty of dance and movement stuff, but all these ones and fives and stuff are throwing me off.”

“Do you want some extra practice?” Panto asked.

“Of course I do. Are you offering?” Silas asked.

“I am, actually.”

“Oh.”

“If you want to come over to my place after rehearsal tomorrow I’ve got plenty of space and some swords we can work with.”

“That sounds… really good. Thanks.”

He smiled and was rewarded with the sight of Panto smiling back.

\--

**Farah Black** (Stage Manager)

Graduate of Washington State University. Previous credits include Wendimoor Shakespeare’s Dr. Faustus, Henry IV, Cymbeline, and The Winter’s Tale. Previously employed at Springs Dinner Theater.

\--

The next day, Panto dragged a very nervous Silas to his home - a renovated farmhouse on the outskirts of town.

“The loft is my sister’s,” Panto explained as he led him inside. “Don’t go up there, I can’t vouch for your safety.”

The loft didn’t look terribly dangerous, but Silas had never been terribly fond of heights anyway, so he figured that was a rule he wouldn’t mind following.

“And the basement is mine,” Panto continued. “Come on!”

The two of them rushed down the steps. The basement was L-shaped, with the shorter arm devoted to a truly impressive video game system and a multitude of beanbag chairs. The longer section was full of exercise equipment, with a large clear space in the middle. There were already two foam swords laid out on the mat. Beside them, a basket of… bandanas?

As Silas stared in confusion, Panto tied a blue bandana around his upper arm, and then a red one on his other arm. Without any explanation, he continued with a green bandana on his left knee and purple on his right.

“Come here,” he said.

“Why?” Silas asked.

“Well, you said you were having trouble with the numbers, right? So I thought colors might be easier to remember.”

A disbelieving smile spread across Silas’ face.

“That… might work.”

“I hope so. Here. You need them on you too so you know where to block.”

When Panto was done tying bandanas to him, they both looked a little ridiculous, but it was hardly the most embarrassing thing Silas had ever done for a show.

“You want to warm up?” Panto asked. “I know we were on our feet a lot at rehearsal, but…”

“This is different,” Silas confirmed. “Warm up would be nice.”

A few minutes later, they got down to business. Panto started by just calling out random instructions, letting Silas get used to the system.

“Cut to pink!” Panto called.

Silas giggled a little as he swung the foam sword at Panto’s brightly dyed hair, but he didn’t hesitate.

“Block red!”

Silas moved the sword to block his left side in a move that was almost entirely fluid.

“You’re getting it!” Panto shouted in surprised delight.

“I’m getting it!” Silas shouted back.

On a sudden impulse, he hugged Panto. After a moment, Panto hugged back fiercely.                      

“You want to move on to the fights from the show?”

Silas nodded, suddenly feeling like he could take on the world.

\--

**Wygar Oak** (Fight Choreographer)*

Wendimoor Shakespeare’s resident fight choreographer, Wygar Oak is delighted to be back for the theatre’s 25th season. SAFD Certified. See woakfights.com for information about upcoming classes.

\--

“Farsooooon,” Silas whined into his cell phone.

On the other end of the line, Farson Dengdamor couldn’t stop giggling at his brother’s melodramatic outburst.

“He’s cute and gay and single. He can’t be nice on top of all that it’s just Too Much,” Silas griped. “How am I supposed to handle this?”

Farson stifled another snort.

“This isn’t funny,” Silas insisted. He paused for a moment. “Okay, maybe it is. But I need some actual advice here.”

“Ask him out,” Farson suggested. “Write him an anonymous love letter. Seduce him in a dressing room between shows.”

In the stunned silence that followed, Farson could easily imagine Silas’ face turning bright red.

“I can’t-- Have you ever been in a dressing room on a two-show day?!”

“Somehow, that’s never come up in vet school,” Farson pointed out. “But for real, just talk to him. Ask him out.”

“But what if he says no?”

Silas sounded so dejected that Farson couldn’t laugh, no matter how cliché it was.

“Then you give up and move on.”

“It sounds so easy when you say it,” Silas sighed.

“I know it’s not easy. But I know you can do it.”

There was silence on the other side of the phone for a moment.

“Thanks, Farson.”

“Anytime.” A sudden thought occurred to him. “By the way, is there a guy named Todd who works at your theater?”

“Yeah. He’s the ASM. How’d you know?”

“He’s Amanda’s brother.”

“Really? That’s… cool.”

Farson didn’t comment on the fact that it sounded rather forced. Amanda had told him plenty about her mess of a brother.

“So how is Amanda?” Silas asked.

“Good!” Farson assured him. “The Rowdy Three are playing at Kellum Club tonight. Should be a riot.”

“Isn’t Kellum’s owner known for being massively conservative?”

“Like I said: It’ll be a riot.”

\--

See **The Rowdy 3** live in concert TONIGHT at The Kellum Club!

This chart-topping Seattle-based alt-rock band began as Project Incubus in 2008 with friends Martin, Cross, and Gripps. In 2009, they renamed themselves The Rowdy 3, and shortly afterwards acquired accordion player Vogel. In 2016, after an extended hiatus, drummer Amanda Brotzman and bass guitarist known only as The Beast rounded out the band’s lineup, bringing the number of band members up to six. There are currently no plans to change the band’s name to reflect this.

\--

“Fight call!” Farah announced briskly. Wygar had just finished laying out the weapons on the props table.

Silas took a deep breath. This was it. If the fights didn’t show some improvement by this week’s fight rehearsal, Wygar had privately confided in Silas that he’d simplify the blocking. It was completely fair, but Silas really didn’t want to let him down like that. He’d been working with Panto for three days. This was the test. Would it really make a difference when it counted?

 “Can we do the Romeo and Paris fight first?” Panto suggested.

Wygar nodded, and Silas breathed a sigh of relief. Of all his fights, that was the easiest, and he was now pretty used to fighting with Panto.

“From ‘I do defy’,” Farah decided, looking up from her script.

Silas knelt by the bench. Behind him, he could hear Panto getting into position.

“And… scene!”

“I do defy thy conjurations, and apprehend thee for a felon here!” Panto shouted.

“Wilt thou provoke me? Then have at thee, boy!” Silas cried back, turning to face him.

And then they were fighting.

Block… stab… dodge…

It wasn’t perfect, but it flowed like water, and Silas unconsciously found himself speeding up, leaning into it.

The noise Panto made when Silas stabbed him was far too loud. His eyes widened, and he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, clutching his chest.

Silas dropped down beside him.

“Panto! Are you okay?”

Panto opened his eyes and let out a barking laugh.

“It’s called acting, silly.”

“Panto wrote the book on playing dead,” Mona called out from the other side of the rehearsal room. “Don’t let him scare you.”

Silas looked back at his crush.

“I really didn’t stab you?”

Panto lifted his shirt to show off his completely untouched chest. “Not a scratch.”

Finally, Silas worked up the nerve to look at Wygar, who was grinning broadly.

“I take it that was better?”

Wygar nodded. “I don’t know what you did, but it worked like a charm.”

Silas pulled Panto into a hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered, for probably the fifth time.

“You know, we could work that reaction into the Tybalt fight,” Wygar mused. “You up for that?”

“I’m up for anything.”

\--

**D. Estevez** (Technical Director)

Wendimoor Shakespeare’s resident TD since 2015. Could use a cup of coffee. Or something stronger.

\--

First dress was enough of an adventure when you _weren’t_ sharing a dressing room with your crush.

Well, there were also four other people. But Silas couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Panto, two seats down. He’d dyed his hair a light brown – or Litzibitz had dyed it for him – and it was odd to see him without the cotton candy hair.

However, it was his habit of unbuttoning his shirt at every available opportunity – while loudly complaining about the heat – that was going to kill Silas. Litzibitz had her brother in an artfully disheveled pale pink silk button-up and a light grey jean vest that Panto cheerfully informed him she’d stolen from his closet. Silas was doing his best not to even think about the leather pants and glittery eyeshadow. The design was, according to Zimms, supposed to be “wannabe rock star,” but someone had apparently forgot to mention the first half of that to Litzibitz.

Silas himself was in artfully ripped jeans, a white polo shirt, and a light green cardigan. With the large-framed glasses, he was pretty sure he looked like a massive nerd. Nibso insisted that was the point. Mona had dubbed it “hipster chic.” She – of course – was in a very flattering blue dress for most of the show.

“Oh good, they’re finally done with the conjuring scene,” the actor playing Tybalt remarked.

Trying very hard not to stare at Panto, who was passed out on the couch, Silas barely registered the comment. Until he realized…

“Oh crap!”

He just barely managed to get into position in time for his entrance for the balcony scene.

\--

**Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency**

Cases Solved with Arguable Efficiency

Contact: If you need me, I’ll end up there sooner or later

\--

Silas filled his plate for the third time with hors d’oeuvres. Why was there never any real food at opening night parties? He had to run up three flights of stairs for the nightingale scene. He was starving.

“You know there’s sandwiches for the actors behind the bar?”

Farah appeared at his elbow, eyeing the overstuffed plate with amusement.

Silas’ eyes lit up.

“I think you just saved my life.”

Two minutes later, after scarfing down a tuna salad sub, he found himself accosted by an imposing man with a press pass. He vaguely recognized famous theatre critic Osmund Priest.

“Silas Dengdamor?”

“That’s right,” Silas confirmed. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Priest.”

“You’re new to Wendimoor Shakespeare, correct?” Priest asked, ignoring his outstretched hand.

“That’s correct.”

“Mr. Priest!” Ken Addams came up behind Priest and clapped him on the back. “Always a pleasure to see you!”

He winked at Silas, who ducked away, relieved to be avoiding Priest’s notoriously biting questions.

Estevez waved him over to join the tech crew, who’d clumped themselves together to avoid small talk – or perhaps merely because the rich patrons were only interested in talking to the actors.

“Enjoying your first opening night party at Wendimoor?” he asked.

“It’s a bit overwhelming,” Silas admitted.

“Most of us techies were planning on heading over to Zarf’s for a more casual get-together if you want to join,” Tina suggested. “Her brother owns a brewery so there’ll be lots of free booze.”

The look she exchanged with Todd suggested there would also be copious amounts of free weed if he were so inclined.

“Uh, I’ll think about it,” Silas said.

He was pretty sure he was closer with the tech crew than most of the actors – Panto aside – but he wasn’t sure how he felt about imposing on their party.

“Silas! There you are!”

Mona’s voice could quite possibly cut through glass. It was definitely sufficient for cutting through the crowd.

He turned to face her, but her hands suddenly covered her eyes.

“I have a surprise for you!” she sang.

“Wha-”

“Alright, one… two… three!”

She took her hands away, and Silas’ mouth fell open. Standing in front of him was his brother, looking sheepish in a suit and carrying a massive bouquet of flowers.

“Farson?!”

“Great show, Silas,” Farson said, a big grin on his face.

“I though you couldn’t come til next week.”

“My final got moved up. I thought I’d surprise you.”

Silas went to hug him, but the flowers somewhat got in the way.

“These are from Mom,” Farson explained. “Or, well, she handed me fifty bucks and told me to get you something, but you know…”

Silas could feel his eyes filling with tears as he accepted the flowers. It wasn’t much, but it was more than she’d ever bothered to do for any of his other shows.

“Thanks, Farson.”

“Why don’t you go put those with your stuff?” Mona suggested, showing a surprising amount of subtlety. “I think there’s an empty vase in the green room if you want to borrow that.”

“Yeah, I’ll go do that,” Silas agreed.

“I’m gonna go see if there’s any of those little quiches left,” Farson said. “Come find me when you’re done with that.”

Silas ducked into the staircase. He made it about halfway down the stairs before he had to sit down. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he clutched the flowers to his chest. He felt like an idiot, but the emotions were overwhelming.

“Silas?”

Of all people, it had to be Panto who found him.

“Are you okay?”

Panto sat next to him on the stairs, looking concerned.

“I’m just… really happy…” Silas admitted, choking back sobs.

“Those flowers are very nice.”

“Thanks.”

Panto just sat there for a minute, an arm around Silas as he cried.

“You should go back to the party,” Silas said finally, as his tears began to slow. “I’m sorry to detain you.”

“I’ve avoided Priest for this long,” Panto replied. “I think I’ll keep it up. Besides, I was looking for you.”

“Me? Why?”

“I wanted to… talk to you about something. Perhaps I’d better save it for later.”

Silas dried his eyes on his sleeve. “No, please. I’m fine. Go ahead.”

Panto was turning oddly scarlet.

“Do you want to go for drinks?” Panto asked.

“Isn’t that some sort of opening night tradition?” Silas asked.

“No. I mean, yes. Most of the cast is going to the pub tonight after this is over. But I meant… do you want to go for drinks with me? Like, on a date?”

“ _Like_ a date?” Silas repeated skeptically, his heart pounding as he tried not to get his hopes up.

Panto sighed.

“Silas Dengdamor, will you be my boyfriend?”

It felt like his grin would split his face in two. “Yes! Absolutely yes!”

And for one brief shining moment, as Panto leaned in to kiss him, Silas’ life was absolutely perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> This is all heavily based on my own experiences working at a Shakespeare theater, but half of it is inside jokes with myself about stuff that annoys me (like the fact that I gave Todd my job even though he would be SO BAD at it) so take from that what you will.
> 
>  
> 
> Also please note that every time I think about a certain actor who plays Silas performing Shakespeare I start crying bc it would be so beautiful so please appreciate the amount of tears that went into this fic


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